Chapter 37 Knox #2
I wake up the next day in my mother’s guest room just at the break of dawn—just a few hours after having arrived to the house.
Last night, I didn’t stop once for food or bathroom breaks, laser-focused on one thing and one thing only: the truth.
Because it seems to me that I haven’t been getting much of it over the course of my life.
Not from my mother, my father, or the person I thought was the love of my life.
Using the key under the mat, I let myself in, snuck into the spare bedroom, and tried to fall asleep despite knowing the tough conversation that awaited me this morning.
The sound of dishes clattering together, cabinets being opened and closed, alert me to my mother being awake, despite the early hour. And just from that, I know it’s an admission of guilt.
Because Melissa Riddick is far from a morning person.
Heaving a sigh, I throw the covers off and pad out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
I stop in the doorway, arms crossed in front of my chest, as I stare at her.
In her messy top-knot and pajamas, sitting at the worn kitchen table, my mother looks more vulnerable and frail than the hero I’ve always regarded her as.
“Ma. You’re up early.”
With obvious effort, she meets my gaze with wide, blue eyes. Same as mine. Lips trembling, tears building, she knows exactly why I’m here.
“I heard your truck when you came in last night. Been up since.”
“Sorry I woke you.” But even I can tell from my flat voice that I couldn’t care less. Not now. Not after everything. Not before I get some answers.
“It’s fine.” She sniffles and looks down. Waiting.
“I think it’s time we talked. Don’t you?”
She nods once, taking a sip from her coffee. “I knew it would come to this the second you told me about the inheritance. When you told me you were going see it, stay and help sell it. It was only a matter of time.”
I sit at the kitchen table, the same one that traveled around with us each time we moved to a new town.
Scratches and crayon stains from when I would sit here and do my homework or play while Ma cooked us dinner.
Years of just her and me, thinking we were a team, when all this time it was just her choosing what was best for Melissa. Not us.
“If you truly believed that, don’t you think it would’ve been best if you’d just told me from the get-go? Or, better yet, when I was a kid?”
“I don’t know. I was so young when I got pregnant.
So scared. And everything with Walter was so intense.
High highs, lowest of lows. I didn’t think I could handle that for the rest of my life.
Because that’s what having a kid with someone means—even if you never marry the person. They will forever be in your life.”
I grind my teeth, white-knuckling the table.
“Yeah, but it could’ve meant something better for me.
I would’ve had a father growing up and not just those few years after you came clean.
Maybe if Walter and I had had a stronger relationship, we would’ve survived our stupid fight before I went off to college.
Maybe he wouldn’t have passed away while we were still estranged.
Maybe I would’ve been able to forgive my father and said goodbye to him.
Did you ever think about that?” I don’t mean to raise my voice at my mom, but it’s hard to keep my emotions in check when I’m suddenly letting myself feel them so viscerally for the first time.
She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “Obviously.”
“Because I get pulling your kid away from his parent if you think they’re a bad guy.
But from what I’ve learned over the last almost three months, Walter wasn’t the man you made him out to be.
He showed up for everyone. And Ma, he was…
” I push out a breath of air. “He was so fucking devoted to you. You should see the shit he wrote about you. About your relationship—”
“What? You’ve been reading his journals? Is that how you found out about everything? Knox, that is a complete invasion of my privacy.”
“Your privacy? Are you kidding me? If anything, it’s an invasion of his.
And he left everything to me, so as far as I know, he wanted me to read them.
I think he knew you gave him the wrong end of the stick and he just had to deal.
From what I’ve read, he never wanted to come clean about everything and cast a divide between the relationship you and I had.
But it didn’t mean he was okay with it, either.
He was hurt. And he wanted to be my father just as much as I wanted him to be. ”
She looks away, swiping at a stray tear. “I… I don’t even know what to say other than
I’m sorry. Other than to tell you that I was young and so…
so terrified of how much I loved him, Knox.
But for how much we cared about each other…
He was fourteen years older. And I was just graduating and everything was so intense.
And of course, there were so many times before the accident when we were struggling that I wanted to call him.
But I didn’t, because I knew I wanted him back in our lives one day.
I just didn’t want that day to be because we needed him.
I wanted to make him proud. But we struggled so much and part of me was scared he’d take you away.
And then the car crash happened, and we didn’t really have a choice…
” She shakes her head at the memory, my eyes going straight to her neck, to the only visible scars from the accident from where the glass shattered and cut her up.
“I regretted keeping him out of your life the second I held you in my arms and thought how awful I was for not letting him be here and share this moment with me. With us.”
“Then why not just call him, Ma? From the hospital, the second I was born. He showed up for us almost ten years later. He would’ve done the same.
” My chest aches from the loss, so different than the one I feel from that of Lottie.
Grief, like she said, comes in so many shapes and sizes and for different reasons.
My mother sobs, putting her face in her hands as she cries. “I-I know you’re looking for a good reason, but there isn’t one. There just isn’t one, Knox. Other than the fact that I was a coward or scared that he was going to take you away from me… There was no other reason.”
“Ma.” My voice breaks. “You let me believe he never wanted me in the first place. You let me believe he asked you for an abortion.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. I’m s-so s-sorry.” She can’t get any more words out, choking in between sobs. Not able to stand it anymore, I kneel beside her and take her into my arms, rocking her gently from side to side.
“Shh. Ma.”
She claws at my shirt, burying her wet face in my neck as she finishes crying. After a few minutes, when she seems to have calmed down some, I pull back, and say, “I don’t know how to forgive you for this.”
“I know.”
“But I think you talking about him, about your relationship, about you might help. I can’t be kept in the dark anymore. I’m… I’m full of regret and—” My voice breaks. It takes me a minute to gather myself again. “I need to know.”
“Okay. Anything you need. Anything. I promise.”
“I also think you need to read his journals with me.”
She pulls back in a panic. “What? No. No, I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that. To see what he really thought of me. It’s selfish, I know, but I can’t have all my worst fears confirmed because… I wouldn’t be able to bear it, Knox. I-I-I…”
“Ma.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “He loved you. He said so over and over again. You broke his heart, but he always loved you. So please. I need someone to help me go through harder passages. You owe it to me to stand by and answer any questions I may have. You owe me.”
She swallows hard once before nodding. “Yes. I’ll—I’ll sit with you. We’ll go through them together.”
“Okay. Because there’s one entry I’ve been wanting to read but haven’t been able to bring myself to.
It’s the one after the last time we spoke.
” It’s the one Lottie was helping me gear up for.
The one she promised we’d face as a team.
And I know I could do it alone now, but I want my mother beside me.
I want her there as we explore things together.
I want her to answer questions about him that Lottie would never have been able to provide.
Without an ounce of hesitation, I bring in the boxes of journals from the truck, setting them in the living room. My mother walks in with the mugs of coffee and sets them down on the table while I find what I’m looking for: the journal from the last year I spoke to my father.
Mom and I settle into the couch, sitting side by side.
I flip through the pages, and, while I don’t remember the exact date I told my father I never wanted to see him again, I guess the month.
From there, we flip through each day, skimming its contents before going back to them at another time, before arriving to the date we want.
Thursday, June 7th